That’s not what is happening here. This is not a new episode of Etched in Bone.
Dateline’s Keith Morrison is not narrating this little panic attack.
This is just my simple, boring life. I’m just a girl on a quest for a bath.
Turning in a circle, I search the perimeter of the ceiling for any other holes of that size and come up empty. Dammit. Of course those two holes are on the side of the room that faces the center of the house. There could be an attic or a closet on the other side. Gross. Please let your imagination be working overtime.
Still, I’ll never be able to relax now, so I quickly shut off the bath with no small sense of regret and wrap a towel around my naked body, returning to the space beneath the holes, regarding them warily, as if they‘re going to jump down and bite me. I’ve heard of this kind of thing, obviously. Voyeurism. Everyone has. But it’s not the kind of problem one would expect to have at a beachfront property that cost a month’s worth of paychecks. Those cannot be peepholes. No way. Just a defect in the wood. As soon as I confirm that, I’m neck deep in hot water and this perfect vacation is off to a flawless start.
Before I can allow myself to get scared, I venture into the hallway outside the bedroom and open the adjacent closet, releasing a pent-up breath when there is no peeper inside. Although…there are no holes either. Not in the immediate closet. But there is a removeable panel on the shared wall. A crawl space?
Speaking of crawling, that is what my skin is doing.
Was the house so quiet and dark when we arrived? I can’t even hear Jude snoring anymore. Just the distant drip of the bathtub faucet. Drip. Drip. And the sound of my breathing now as it accelerates. “Jude?” I call, my voice sounding like a curtain ripping in the total silence. “Jude?” I call louder.
Several seconds pass. No sound.
And then footsteps are coming up the stairs. Why is my mouth dry? It’s only my brother. But when my back hits the wall, I realize I’m cowering there, my fight-or-flight instinct preparing me to dash for the bedroom and lock the door. If what? If someone other than my brother is coming up the stairs? What kind of a horror movie do I think I’m living in? Calm down.
My parents infiltrate riots to save artwork in the name of preserving history. Obviously their bravery is not a hereditary trait. Two little holes in the crown molding have my heart jackhammering. Even more so than the first day of in-person classes with a mob of second graders who’d been cooped up for a year with limited physical activity.
Could you be any more pitiful, Taylor?
If I needed proof that—at twenty-six—my life is too safe and predictable, here it is. One wrench in the engine and my routine-oriented self is ready to self-destruct.
I slump against the wall when Jude’s yawning face comes into view. “What’s up?”
Swallowing my nerves, I gesture vaguely at the closet. “So this is probably me being crazy, but there are two holes near the ceiling in the bedroom. And I think they correspond to that crawl space up there?”
Jude is awake now. “Like peepholes?”
“Yeah?” I wince. “Or I could just be imagining things?”
“Better to be safe,” he murmurs, passing me into the bedroom. Hands on hips, he observes the holes for a long moment, before meeting my eyes. And that’s when cold licks down my spine. His expression is suspicious. Not teasing, like I was hoping for. “What the fuck?”
“Okay.” I let out a slightly unsteady breath. “You’re not laughing and pointing out some flaw in the construction, like I was hoping you would.”
“No, but let’s take stock, T. If those are peepholes, there’s no one peeping now.” He returns to the hallway to stand beside me. Both of us stare up at the crawl space. “But neither one of us is going to relax until we’re positive, right?”
I groan, visions of my bath dissipating like wisps of smoke. “Should we call the police?”
He considers my totally irrational question. Really considers it, stroking the scruff on his chin. This is one of the reasons I love Jude so much. We’re siblings, so naturally we’ve had our share of bickering fights and outright shouting matches over the years, but he’s on my team. It’s a given. He doesn’t accuse me of being crazy. He takes me seriously. The things that are important to me are of equal importance to him and I will always, always do everything I can to make his life easier, the way he’s done for me in the near-constant absence of our parents.
“I think I’ll just pop off that panel and have a look,” Jude says, finally.